It's all about the Motive
by vrangr
Summary: *set before season 1* Sam is a guest speaker at a seminar and she meets Martin Fitzgerald for the first time. Her first impression of him was...well...how do you put it 'nicely'...


Title: It's all about the Motive

**Title:** It's all about the Motive

**Rating: **_T_ because I like playing safe.

**Author's Note:** This is a really 'long oneshot' (why is it long? because it's _too short_ to be divided into chapters but _too long _to be called a oneshot. so I called it a 'long oneshot.' sounds corny eh?) Like mentioned in the summary, this is something that will tell us the reason why Martin Fitzgerald liked Samantha Spade from the start of Season 1. Just go easy on me because I only started liking WaT after watching Season 2 so I don't know if any of these will be as accurate as you might expect it to be. Thanks for reading! Cheers!

**Pairing:** Smarty/MS

**Disclaimer: **Copyright of _Without a Trace _does not belong to me.

**Special Thanks:**_Thanks so much to stephell for all the encouragement and inspiration. Go raith maith agat!_

_The brain is the organ that allows humans to think. It is responsible for what people do every second, minute, hour, day, week, month and year in a lifetime. It is not only a faculty in the human body that drives a person to speak or silence himself, to keep calm or be scared, but it is also a sovereign of another power: the mind. How does the mind differ from the brain? Though there might not be a definite answer to this question, we can say that the mind isn't found in any definite location either. _

Crime is definitely something not everyone would want to be involved in, but for Special Agent Samantha Spade solving crime was just another game.

Having been working as a full-time agent in the Missing Persons Unit for almost a year Sam has had her fair share of experience in the field, and that was precisely why she found herself taking a cab through Brooklyn one Thursday morning. Sam was due to give a talk in an important seminar, _The Criminal Mind: Behind it All_, and specifically focus her discussion on _motive, _at one of Brooklyn's conference halls_._ Oh, yes. Sam knew all about motive. She'd seen a lot of it through solving various cases assigned to her unit and motive started all the way from money, to the classic conflict of jealousy, and even deep internal conflicts such as depression. But even though Sam could think of more words than what her brain would allow her to say about motive she wanted to know the reason why she was picked out of the team to do the seminar, and not someone who was really experienced in the field like Jack Malone, or calm but stern like Vivian Johnson, or humoring and more social like Danny Taylor. It seemed that Sam didn't realize her own traits. Everyone knows Samantha Spade: she is bright, focused and driven in her work. She's got the experience of an accomplished agent who's been in the field a long time. She is calm during interrogations but firm in her word. And, at the end of the day, Sam is a jester who likes to fool around with colleagues at a cafe, or on the phone at night. Oh yeah. Sam didn't know it but Jack, Viv, and Danny sure do.

_The mind cannot be found on the creative region of your brain, nor can it be found on the logical region, but the mind can be found everywhere. The brain may be the one thinking, but it is the mind that is responsible for the main output of your thoughts. The brain thinks, while the mind speaks out. Acts out. And though this does sound pretty simple, understanding the individual mind may be more complicated than you think._

Sam waited patiently at the conference hall lobby where she was supposed to meet a certain Agent Edward Wilson, a soon-to-retire agent who supervised most seminars that were held for new agents who wanted to familiarize themselves with the kind of job they chose, what consequences faced them, and what other complicated situations they were in for. Sam seated herself on a sofa with her laptop bag leaning by her leg, and her trench coat folded neatly on her lap. She remained deep in thought, mentally preparing herself for something she had never done before, and yet trying to stay relaxed and calm.

"Special Agent Samantha Spade?"

Sam's head shot up at the sound of her name. She stood from her seat and straightened her blouse to see a man in a dark business suit approach her in a brisk walk, "How do you do?" he asked, "Agent Edward Wilson, I phoned your unit about a week ago." Sam smiled politely, "Yes, so you did," she said as both agents shook hands, "Am I late?"

"Actually, Agent Spade, I must say you're very punctual," he complemented, "The seminar doesn't start for the next thirty minutes, though I suppose it's best to be well ahead of time, am I right? In the meanwhile, please gather your things and we can proceed to the seminar room."

Sam did as told and followed the man to the steel elevators through a corridor.

_The criminal mind is a twisted, dark oblivion within a person's body. It is driven by one purpose: to accomplish the negative. Many have tried to study this faculty of a criminal but so far only the obvious has been reached: that criminals could be anyone from a stranger, to your neighbor, to even a family member. And as agents, it is important to understand how these people function._

"Agent Spade, I must say that I appreciate your coming here to give a talk in the seminar," Wilson led the way out of the elevator, "And I also appreciate that you have dressed appropriately for the occasion. All the agents are basically in the same attire as you and I."

Sam was very grateful to hear that. She certainly didn't want to find out that she had dressed up in slacks, heels (which she had to shine for about an hour because it became so dusty from lack of care,) and a formal polo just to find out that this was a casual seminar. Wilson continued speaking, "Just so you know the talk yesterday was a coverage of the criminal intellect. The speakers chose not to sit through the seminar, for I suppose they have matters to attend to in their respectful units." Wilson stopped for a moment to receive an envelope being handed to him along the way by what looked like a secretary. After browsing through the contents of the envelope Wilson continued talking, "These are seminar schedules until tomorrow. They'll help me keep track of the discussions."

Sam nodded in acknowledgment.

Wilson spoke on, "You'll be having your discussion for the whole three hours of the morning. After that, we should have a lunch break worth forty-five minutes and, as scheduled, we will have another speaker who flew in from Washington DC. His name is Robert Harris. His discussion focuses on _Likely Victims_: people who are the likely target of a crime."

Sam nodded. She kept quiet most of the way since she didn't want to end up saying something she might not want to say. But she did have a question she wanted answered, "Agent Wilson," she began as she found herself stopped in front of a large set of glass French doors, "Is it alright if I sit through the rest of the seminar after I'm through? I'd like to know about _Likely Victims_ because I have a clear understanding that anyone is a possible target." Sam had meant that. Her understanding of likely victims was just about anyone, but it wouldn't hurt to try and learn something new.

_Intellect refers to the means of a person being able to know or understand a situation given. In the criminal mind, intellect may refer to what a person _believes. _If someone were to be given a situation wherein he found his friend beaten up and in the hospital, he might think 'vengeance.' He thinks it is a good thing if he gives whoever beat up his friend what he deserves, and therefore he throws the bad guy six feet under._

Wilson placed his hand on the door handles and smiled, "Feel free to do so, Agent Spade. The seminar is free of charge to speakers."

Sam smiled, "Thank you."

As the agents entered the conference room Sam saw that there were absolutely no windows on the polished wooden walls and dividers. Strong overhead fluorescents provided sufficient lighting in the room. Rows and rows of thirty theatrical seats took up most of the space and faced a large platform right at the front. On the platform stood a whiteboard for charts and a podium for, undoubtedly, speakers. There was also a projection screen hanging on the wall behind the platform. Sam nodded.

"I see you approve, Agent Spade," Wilson smiled, "Do you have anything that might belong in the projector?"

Sam quickly fished out a CD she prepared for her talk, "It's all in here, sir."

"Great. Let me hook it up and I'll hand in the remote when you're about to go up on the podium."

"Sure thing."

_Behind every harmed victim is a committed crime, and behind every committed crime is a motive. Motive, coming from the word _motivation_, refers to the drive within a person to do what he/she wants._

Sam looked around. There were already some agents quietly conversing with each other in their seats. Some remained standing, perhaps waiting for other fellow colleagues to arrive. Sam walked down the side of the room and saw an agent, busily scribbling notes in a notepad, seated at the farthest corner of the first row seats. Sam noticed that his seat was nearest to the podium.

_Looks like someone wants to pay real attention to this seminar, _Sam smiled.

Martin Fitzgerald folded the page in his notepad marking it with _Criminal Intellect_, and inserted his pen inside before closing it for the time being.

"Excuse me."

Martin looked up to see an agent smiling down at him. She looked like another attendee, wearing an ID, a good suit and carrying what looked like a laptop bag. Martin politely stood up and held out a hand, "Hey," he said, "Need a seat?"

The agent shook his hand warmly, "Sure. I'd like to stay near the podium though," she said. Martin gestured to the seat next to him, "Please. It's unoccupied."

"Thanks."

As Martin seated himself together with the new agent he introduced himself, "Agent Martin Fitzgerald, by the way."

Sam looked at him, "Agent Samantha Spade," she smiled, "Are you related to Victor Fitzgerald?"

Martin nodded, "As a matter of fact, I am."

"I see. Just wondering."

Both agents retreated to their silent shells for a few minutes. Sam decided to keep up with the conversation. She was starting to feel the pressure.

"How long exactly have you been in the FBI?"

Martin looked thoughtful for a moment, "Not for very long yet. I come from Seattle, working for the police department. I decided to come here to New York to see if I have a chance in Missing Persons and so I attended this seminar."

Sam whistled, _Missing Persons, huh?_

"And so you've decided to follow in your father's footsteps?"

Martin set his jaw. He didn't have a very good relationship with his father and this _Samantha Spade _was talking to him as if he was just another 'daddy's boy.'

"Actually," Martin began steadily, "I'd like to enter Missing Persons because, just like any other agent, I am willing to do whatever I can for others."

Sam nodded, _Smart answer, Fitzgerald._

"I respect that, Agent Fitzgerald."

Martin looked away, _Of course you do._

Sam smirked and browsed through her notes, those she wanted to thoroughly review at last minute before the seminar. She found herself absentmindedly whispering Martin's words, "Whatever I can for others…"

Martin side glanced. He looked carefully at Sam. She didn't look like she was ridiculing him, nor did she look like she wanted to be heard. She, in fact, looked genuinely thoughtful.

Martin secretly studied every feature of Sam's face. Her brow was furrowed slightly, and yet showed much expression, the kind of expression anyone might have when analyzing a mathematical computation. Her dark eyes weren't narrowed yet they didn't look their normal size. Was it because of her furrowed brow, or maybe the fact that her eyes were full of the intelligence and brightness of someone who's just solved a difficult mathematical computation? Her fingers were thoughtfully placed on her lips. Neither lips, nor fingers showed the slightest sign of movement or tremble, yet one could see how much deeply in thought Sam was in that you could almost see the flow of her thoughts through looking into her eyes. Martin had never seen such an expression before, even from the investigators from Seattle. Sam, unlike those investigators, seemed truly absorbed in something. Her nature was left calm yet busy with decision-making. It was then, that as quickly as how Sam got into her 'Einstein Mode,' she got out of it and her eyes shifted to catch Martin's. Martin quickly looked away feeling embarrassed. _Very _embarrassed, and when he got embarrassed, he got quiet.

Sam raised an eyebrow and looked back down at her papers. She hadn't noticed the number of agents that had already proceeded into the conference room and two that had already seated themselves beside her. The place was now filled up. Wilson came up to the podium as the house lights came on and fluorescents went off. The room was dimmed, but not dark. Sam could still see Martin's blank expression and busily toying with his fountain pen.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Wilson cleared his throat, "Welcome back for the third day of your seminar. Yesterday we had a deep and thorough discussion on the brain and mind, how they differ from each other, and criminal intellect. Our speakers have been most thorough. And today, we have two other special guest speakers. First up, let us welcome Special Agent Samantha Spade from the New York City FBI Missing Persons Unit."

A round of applause filled the room.

Martin shut his eyes momentarily to give himself a good mental kicking.

_Of course, why else would she know about Victor Fitzgerald?_ Martin looked up at the podium watching Sam organize her papers. Her discussion began.

"Good morning," Sam began firmly, "As mentioned by Agent Wilson I am from the Missing Persons Unit, Agent Spade. Today, I've been asked to give a talk on," Sam paused to wait for a slide from her powerpoint to appear on the screen, "Motive."

The audience began to take down notes.

"We can all describe motive as the psychological drive, inspiration or stimulation a person has when intending to do something either positive or negative. In the criminal mind, motive may sometimes refer to the reason of why the criminal committed a crime. Kindly take note of the word _reason._"

Sam flashed several more slides elaborating the word _motive_, "Please do not confuse reason with motive for even they sound similar they are not. A motive, like I have said, is the main drive and stimulus of a person to do something. A motive is something that causes a person to act out. A reason, on the other hand, is something that acts as a basis for something. Anything: an event, a fact or action. It can even be a basis for your ideas."

Sam flashed the next slide. It showed a picture of a kid's birthday party, "Given the question 'What is your reason for throwing a party? What is your motive?' Can someone answer that for me?"

An agent at the back of the room raised her hand. Sam gestured to her, "Yes, ma'am?"

"My reason would be because it's someone's birthday, and my motive is because I want to make that someone happy."

Sam smiled, "Brilliant."

Martin smirked but took note of everything Sam was saying. When he looked up again he found himself staring right into Sam's eyes. She smiled kindly.

"You know, I was talking to one of the attendees here this morning," she began, "I asked him what he planned to do after this seminar."

Martin tried his best not to show any reaction.

"This agent replied to me that he was interested in entering the MPU, so I asked him why," Sam paused, "He said he wanted to be able to help people because he was willing to _do anything he could for others_."

Sam raised her eyebrows, "Can someone tell me: reason or motive?"

An agent raised his hand. When he was called his reply was just what Sam wanted to hear.

"Yes, sir, you are correct. It is motive."

Sam flashed another slide on the screen, "But what does motive and reason have to do with the criminal mind?" Sam could feel something hanging in the air and when she flashed a slide of yearly crime rates within the city. The reaction of the audience was just what Sam wanted, "Listen. From the crime rate of year 2000, in New York City alone with a population of 18,976,457 people, there are 952 crimes registered under murder; 3,530 registered under rape; 340, 901 for larceny, and the list goes on." Sam stared thoughtfully at the audience "I wonder how many of you attended this seminar just to understand the criminal mind so they could get into whatever unit they want," Sam paused thoughtfully and let her words hang in the air, "And I want to know how many of you actually attended this seminar because you _already_ understand what's going on in this world and you want to make a difference, and _that_ is what will become your motive. Remember that _for every crime committed is a criminal, and for every criminal that commits a crime is a motive_"

Martin bit his lip and slumped in his seat. The more he looked at Sam, the more he liked her for different reasons, and that was blowing his focus completely off of the seminar. Martin was starting to like the way Sam gestured when she wanted to emphasize her point. He found it amusing when some strands of hair would fall delicately over Sam's eyes, causing her to casually brush them away. He liked the way Sam praised those agents who were actively listening and participating in the discussion and the way she would calmly and gently correct them if they said something inaccurate. It wasn't long before Martin liked Sam for almost everything, from inside personality to exterior characteristics. There was only one thing he didn't like about Sam: it was the fact that she was blowing off his focus and he had a gut feeling that she knew it.

After her three hours of discussion were up, Sam stepped down from the podium to allow Wilson to dismiss the seminar for lunch break.

"Well done, Agent Spade. I'm impressed at how much you've prepared," Wilson took Sam's hand and gave it a business-like handshake.

"Thank you, Agent Wilson. I had help from the team," Sam smiled. Wilson gave her directions to a couple of cafes around the building where Sam could have lunch and coffee if she felt like it, but when Sam turned around to gather her things from her seat she caught Martin looking at her and she lost her appetite. Martin shrugged off her presence, "Nice talk, Agent Spade," he said and brushed passed her. Sam huffed, "And you are hostile towards me because-?"

Martin looked back and smiled, "I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

Sam watched him walk off to meet some colleagues. Now she wished either Viv, Danny or Jack was with her now. She needed someone to confide in but she'd just have to settle for having a drink alone and trying to keep busy with whatever she brought with her in her bag.

"I saw you talking to the speaker, Fitzgerald," Agent Vince Parker took a sip out of his coffee. Martin ignored him.

"Hey, what's with you?"

"Leave it, Parker."

Vince smirked thoughtfully, "I thought you said you liked smart female FBI agents…"

"So I did," Martin drained his coffee cup and set it on the table, "What's your point?"

Vince decided to leave the subject where it was. Martin wasn't in his usual light, jolly mood…for some reason.

Martin pondered over his thoughts as he refused to open up to his buddy, Vince. He wanted to figure this out alone, if only he knew specifically what it was that he wanted to figure out. Martin sighed gruffly and stared at his coffee cup (there was nothing else he seemed interested to stare at.)

Vince continued to watch Martin. He'd never seen his friend act the way he was right now. Usually Martin was levelheaded, focused and driven when faced with a difficult situation, and for some reason, this situation seemed too difficult to handle and yet Martin didn't want to talk about it.

Little did Vince know that the situation wasn't difficult, it was just confusing.

Sam waited for the waitress to prepare her order of espresso. She sighed heavily and rested her head in her hand. She was well over her discussion but she didn't understand what pressure she was feeling now.

_Maybe an after-shock of some sort_, Sam thought. Soon the waitress arrived with a bill and a cup of coffee in a tray, "Here you go, ma'am," she said calmly, "Ms. Samantha Spade, is it?" the waitress read the charge bill. Sam nodded and gave the waitress a tip after signing the bill.

_I don't know what's come over me but whatever it is I want it to stop._

Sam covered the styrofoam cup of coffee she picked up from the table and made her way through the room when two agents, who were absently chatting with each other, at a table Sam was passing by suddenly stood from their seats. Sam tried to dodge when the agent closest to her knocked her coffee to her floor. Sam just missed the spilled hot contents.

Martin shook his head and stood abruptly from his seat, Vince following his move. Martin hissed, "If you call me 'Fitzy' again I well personally see to it that you get a first class flight to Vietnam-" and before he could say anymore he felt something hot against his lower leg. He bit back a curse and saw that he had knocked someone's coffee.

"I am very sorry!" Martin quickly looked up and saw Sam. For some reason Martin found himself frozen in his spot, "Oh," he said absently.

Sam rolled her eyes when a maintenance man came up to them with a bucket and a mop, "I'll take care of the mess, don't ya worry 'bout it, I'll take care of it!"

Sam didn't say anything and walked briskly out the door. Martin followed, leaving a stunned Vince still at the café.

"Agent Spade!" Martin jogged after Sam.

"Can you kindly leave me be?" Sam said calmly without looking back. She took out several sheets of paper from her bag when a few pens and a notepad fell out, _Oh, shit._ Sam made to pick them up when Martin beat her to it, "Seriously. Sorry about that."

Sam smiled and took her things from him without comment. Martin sighed, "Even after calling me hostile you still don't like me."

Sam wasn't sure if that was a statement or a question. Martin kept talking, "You know what? It's all right because I don't like you either."

Sam stopped abruptly and whirled around to face Martin, "That's an _interesting _proposition to make, Agent Fitzgerald!" she snapped and marched off.

_What the hell was that about?!_ Martin slapped his hand on his forehead. He'd never been so rotten and mean toward a girl. The last time he did so was back in high school.

_That was on a crush._ Martin shook his head, _Sam- Special Agent Samantha Spade- is _not_ my crush._

"Likely victims of a crime also include those who are vulnerable both mentally and physically."

Martin scribbled notes in his notepad as he listened- tried to listen- to Agent Harris's discussion on the likely victims or targets of a crime. Martin hadn't seen Sam after this afternoon's incident. He heaved a sigh, as if that would relieve him of some 'emotional weight' on his back.

"Take for example, the depressed," Agent Harris explained, "One who is emotionally unstable and physically weak. Not only can this person be a victim of theft, like all of us, but also possible crimes such as murder, or rape," Agent Harris paused, "Psychologically speaking, the depressed person tends to rely on almost anyone for emotional support. Those who are in true need of help may even resort to relying on total strangers, which can start trouble."

Martin sighed again, _I'm in trouble,_ he thought, _And I want to get out of it._

The last few hours of the seminar passed by in the slowest manner ever achieved by the clock, in Martin's opinion. After the seminar he went out of the seminar room to go and look for Vince.

"Parker!"

Vince turned around, already buttoning his coat, "Listen, man, I have to get home. The temperature's dropped to zero and my sister's going to be dead worried if I'm any later."

Martin nodded, "That's fine with me. I'll keep in touch."

"Sure thing. Take care of yourself."

Martin started to walk down the corridor when he looked back again to see Sam and Agent Wilson exchanging handshakes and farewells. Martin bit his lip when he finally made his decision. He took his fountain pen in his hand and tapped the cover lightly with his finger.

_All right, Fitzgerald. You got yourself into this mess and now you have to get yourself out._

Martin found himself mentally repeating in his mind that he wasn't a bully and that he was nice and friendly guy.

Sam had been trying to catch a cab for the passed five minutes or so but every one that passed by seemed to be headed home.

_Damn the frigid temperature_, she thought, _I need to get home before I freeze on the pavement._

Sam waited for a little while longer before her mind started running today's events. Sam wanted so much to get out of Brooklyn and back home, nice, warm, cozy home.

The temperature was down to zero degrees and Sam was freezing. She was about to give up and walk downtown to see if she could catch a cab from the next intersection when she noticed Martin walk up to her. She stared at him and didn't move, not sure what she wanted to do. Martin held out to her a styrofoam cup. Sam was a bit too surprised not to take it from him and she was even more surprised when she realized that it was coffee. Martin's expression was blank, neither smiling nor frowning, but his eyes were bright and sincere about…_something_.

"I hope you don't mind decaf," Martin said. Sam shook her head, "No, not at all," she said and carefully took a sip. Martin watched her as she did so but looked away before Sam could catch him looking at her again.

Both agents stood there for a moment when Martin managed to catch a cab. He opened the door and gestured for Sam to get in. Sam blinked, "Are you serious?"

Martin nodded, "Just get in, will you?" he smiled.

Sam smiled faintly back and when she got in Martin said, "Take care, Agent Spade," and closed the door.

As Martin watched the cab drive off at a slow pace he said, "Good night," hoping that Sam would hear it anyway.

As Sam got her purse to prepare for the transportation fare of the cab she noticed her hand had black smudges on it. She frowned, _What sick joke is this, Fitzgerald?_

But when Sam looked around the cup, on the lower side of it, scribbled in fountain pen were the words, _It matters when you like someone._

**Author's Note: Yes, I know it's not perfect :( I think over-did it a bit. It's just so looooooooong!**

I notice that a lot of people want the WaT theme on .mp3 format. PM me and I'll give you a link to my imeem so you can download it :D cheers!


End file.
